#So I feel more comfortable physically and mentally | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

militaryapple · 22 hours ago

Text

WHATS YOUR SAFE WORD?

synopsis. you ask caleb to degrade you, and when he agrees with his own terms you take it as a challenge.

cw. fem!reader, mild degradation, asphyxiation, fingering, cunnilingus, caleb has you in a headlock, marking, he gets hard when you call him colonel.

add ons. hope everyones having a wonderful monday

wc. 1.6k

"you want me to what?" caleb said surprised. degradation? it wasn't his forte. It's not like he didn't want to degrade you, tell you how much of a fucking slut you looked when you begged for him to fill up every little crevice of your throbbing cunt. he couldn't help but praise you though, you always took his cock so nicely. it was practically made for you. the sounds you made whenever he would go deeper in your sweet cunt, how perfect you looked when he fucked you senseless. it just rolled off his tongue naturally!

"caleb" you whined softly. he thought about it. oh he couldn't help but say yes to you, he couldn't say no. not when you look up at him, batting your eyes in a way that makes you look oh-so-innocent. he couldn't help but have a wide grin fall upon his face. "okay okay, fine pipsqueak." he said playfully "but-" and there it was.

your once gleeful face dropped. of course there was going to be a "but" this is caleb after all. why did he have to make this more difficult than it needed to be? it was just gonna be like.. a test the waters thing.

"hey don't look so sad on me now, I know why you're asking me to do this anyways." he clicked his tongue after finishing his sentence, pushing his hand into his pocket before pulling out a sheet of paper, and you felt your heart drop.

oh god.

oh lumiere.

"100% masochist.." how did he?

"98% rope bunny?" take it back.

"87% experimentalist?" your face flushed, you felt like you were burning before rushing towards him and grabbing the small piece of paper. dammit! this is why you don't do things with your friends after you drink! you leave evidence of shit around! you hit Caleb as hard as you could before he ducked and laughed. how could he even find this?! you swore you hid it well. well enough that after you woke up with a very bad hangover you forgot where you placed it.

"i know everything about you pips. you think I wouldn't be able to find a small little paper you attempted to hide away?" caleb said, almost mocking you. "did you forget who took care of you last night? I'm glad I looked at it when I did. i'd be a little sad to miss something this interesting about you." he shifted over on the couch where he was seated. you plopped yourself down next to him in embarrassment.

fuck your life.

"ah- back to our conversation, my only 'but' was that we have a safe word." his gaze shifting from the paper now peering at you. his face smug. like he fucking knows everything. "you go through my things, you make fun of me and now you want a safe word? ha? do you think i'd need to tap out or something?" you snarled back at him

caleb shifted from a comfortable position to a more.. open one. his legs widened as he couldn't help teasing you. look how flare you get? how your cheeks puff and your eyes burn into him. shit you were sexy like this.

"i'm just saying pip-squeak, if you cant handle it anymore, just say the word and i'll run a warm bath for you. we can cuddle and.." he trailed off as you moved to him, placing yourself on top of his lap as his gaze, once shifted downwards to meet your eyes now looking up.

"the safe word is apples. I won't need it since you're obviously challenging me." you retorted. there was no way you were losing some sort of game to caleb. he might have physical strength but you have mental strength, and that's more than enough.

caleb hummed in approval before grabbing you by your sides and swaying your hips on his crotch. oh fuck did it rub you just right. "I know everything about you." he whispered in your ear, his breath hot. fiery. you could feel the dent in his pants rising as the friction only made you feel so much better. you couldn't give in now, you both were just beginning.

caleb dug his face in the crook of your neck his kisses moving up as he bit the side of your neck, hard enough for you to feel it but not enough to make you bleed, softly coating the area with his saliva. "I know what you like," his nibbles becoming more and more prominent, "what you hate" the feeling was euphoric for you. "what you need." oh fuck, was he marking you?

you didn't have time to react before you were flipped to your front side. it didn't take any time before caleb unbuckled your pants and undoing your zipper. one of his arms putting you in a headlock, not quite hurting you but squeezing you, while his free hand made its way down your pants and in your panties. you would be lying if you said this wasn't turning you on, and caleb knew.

"you're drenched for me baby. what is it? you like the feeling of my big arms being wrapped around your pretty little throat? its almost pathetic." his arm tightening at the feeling of you wiggling beneath in, ah ah. you weren't getting out of this that fast. he rubbed your clit slowly, kissing the back of your neck as you pleaded for him to move faster. this was torture.

caleb was more than amused, he watched as you wiggled and writhed under him. oh how he would love to just give into you but he couldn't, not when you wanted him to be mean, and that's when he heard it.

"colonel, please."

could you say that? it didn't matter. he was rock fucking hard. hearing that from you was like sweet music to his ears. caleb rubbed your throbbing clit faster, your hand grabbing n his arm wrapped around your neck keeping you stern in place. "say it again, call me colonel, tell me how much you fucking need and how you cant do anything without me." you could only shake, you were so close to your release. your head fuzzy from the low oxygen you were getting, and the feeling of you creaming your pants.

caleb moved his hand away, moving it on your thigh as he rubbed it. you begged for him to touch you again. for him to make you cum all over him. "i know baby, just say it. say you need me, say you need your colonel." he coos. you felt fucking stupid. drunk off his slim fingers which made you feel so divine. all you could do was nod your head and let out a small "okay". caleb kissed the side of your head. "see baby? you're not that stupid."

he moved his finger back as he kissed and smothered you. rubbing your sensitive area as you babble out whatever you could. "I need you colonel. please, please I need you in so many ways. I'm nothing without you, I need you." it was a melody for him, a tune that would play over and over in his head until the day he actually dies. you shook as he felt you tense up. the familiar feeling he knows all too well. "you came? who said you could do that? jeez you are slutty."

he scooped you up and brought you to his room, throwing you down as he undid his pants. he looked over and noticed his work gloves, and a bright idea came to his head. caleb walked over and grabbed his gloves, sliding them on before towering over you and moving his hands to pop right inside your exhausted pussy.

"you cant expect me to just stop now. i wanna feel good too, until you call quits is all." caleb made fun of you. you weren't going to give out, even if he felt so fucking good, and the way his fingers slipped in and out of you. fuck the gloves were cold, but they felt so so good. you shivered underneath as he hit all your good spots.

you squirmed, your body aching for more, you grabbed on his arm and looked up, babbling for something, anything. though you were met by the soft coo's of caleb. "come on use your words, I know you can." he held you down while his fingers abused your cunt.

"please caleb, please just fuck me already." it was those few words that made him flip you upside down and slide his cock in you. he moaned and held on you while he got into a somewhat steady pace. in and out, in and out. his balls hitting your clit while his tip kissed your sweet spot. "yeah? you like that? nasty little thing." he coo'd.

you couldn't take anymore, you had to cum. your body shook. you were close, so so close it was like you would fall off a ledge. you grabbed caleb whining. "please colonel, let me cum, please I've been good." you pleaded. caleb drowned at your words, he was rearing his end too. "okay baby, yeah, cum for me, okay? come on come on." his body slammed into yours, feeling a wave of euphoria wash of you. it took Caleb a few more slaps before he eventually slowed down. he slid out of you, watching your every movement.

"I told you" you said sweetly. "we didn't need a safe word. I can take you." you were right to some extent, but you were still fucked out. as for Caleb, he moved back to admire what he had done to you, before letting out a small chuckle.

"what pip-squeak? you think that we're done? you haven't tapped out yet, which means we aren't done."

367 notes · View notes

thelostmagicians · 3 days ago

Text

Sunshine and the Shadowed Heart | Spencer Reid Part : I

Shadows of the Past

Series Masterlist

Summary: Spencer hasn't been the same since prison, and you're just the rookie

Fluff, comfort, angsty, mean spencer, post-prison spencer [6.3k]

♡

He looked like the same Spencer you’d seen in a guest lecture seven years ago—the legend you’d heard about—sharp, legendary, and unmistakably handsome—but something was different. His smile didn’t reach his eyes. His sharp wit had been replaced with silence. Emily had warned you it would be tough—being imprisoned for a crime he didn’t commit was bound to leave a mark. But you hadn’t expected him to be so… cold.

At first, you didn’t know what it was. The Spencer you’d heard about had been animated, full of life and quirky jokes. Now, he was quiet, distant, almost like a ghost. Everyone couldn’t help but feel the weight of his absence. It wasn’t that he wasn’t physically present—he was right there, in the bullpen, behind his desk, his eyes glued to the screen. But mentally? Emotionally? He was miles away.

You weren’t around for the events that led to his imprisonment, but you were here when he came back. You were hired just a month into Spencer’s absence, after a twist of fate turned your world upside down. Fresh out of college, you had no idea that a random visit to a crime scene would lead you to the BAU. You’d stumbled across a clue—a small, seemingly insignificant detail—that no one had seen. A clue that broke the case wide open and connected the dots in a way no one had even considered.

It was Emily who saw something in you that no one else did. You’d never expected to hear from her, but one evening, as you were packing up to leave, her card had arrived in the mail. You never expected it to lead to an interview—especially not one that would end with you joining the BAU.

You were still trying to find your place in the chaos of the BAU. The team feels like a new family, but it’s hard to truly fit in when you’re still the "new kid." Every day felt like a new challenge. You’d expected the job to be like the textbook cases you’d studied in college—neat, clean, solvable. But the BAU was messy. Real lives were at stake, and sometimes, there were no perfect solutions. The pressure was constant. Every case felt like it could be the one that would break you, the one that would make you realize you didn’t belong. Every day felt like a mountain to climb, and you, fresh out of college, were still learning how to scale it. There was so much to absorb—procedures, protocols, personalities—and sometimes, it felt like you were drowning in it all. The days blurred into nights, the cases piling up, each one more complicated than the last.

The dynamic between the team was established, years in the making. They had a rhythm, an understanding that came with time and trust. You hadn’t earned that yet. You were still trying to find your place, to carve out your spot in the chaos. But there were the moments of levity—Luke’s jokes that never failed to make you laugh, Penelope’s infectious energy that seemed to brighten even the darkest days. It was their way of reminding you that, despite the darkness that came with the job, there was still room for humanity. Still room for laughter, for connection.

Still room for you to grow.

But then there was Spencer.

Spencer Reid, someone you thought you had an idea of who he was when you first saw him—the genius with the messy hair. But now, five weeks in, he’s become something different: a shadow. Brilliant, tortured, and untouchable. He barely spoke, kept to himself in a way that made him seem even more unreachable than the walls he’d built around himself. He hardly acknowledged you unless it was for work, and even then, it was a quiet exchange, all business. It wasn’t that he was rude—it was that he wasn’t… there. It was like talking to a shadow of the person everyone had described to you. The legend of Spencer Reid remained just that now, a folktale that once was.

—

You kept trying though—maybe not all at once, but little by little. You'd try to make small talk while working on the latest case, commenting on a theory, or discussing a strategy. You'd caught a glimpse of Spencer looking at something on his computer once and, with a smile, asked if he wanted to grab coffee after finishing the report. He had nodded curtly, but his response wasn’t an invitation. It was a polite rejection that you couldn’t quite place at first, until you realized it wasn’t just the work. He just didn’t want to engage.

On another occasion, when the team had gathered around the conference table for a case briefing, you shared a funny memory from a training session at the academy. It was a small anecdote, one that usually drew a laugh from Luke or JJ, but Spencer only offered a barely noticeable grunt of acknowledgement, his eyes still fixed on the file in front of him. The briefest of glances, and then he was back to his usual space, mentally miles away from the conversation. It stung more than you’d expected.

Even simple gestures didn’t seem to reach him. One day, after a long stretch of overtime, you left a fresh cup of coffee on his desk, knowing he’d be up all night. When you came by later to check in, the coffee was still there, untouched, as if he hadn’t even seen it.

It wasn’t that he was cruel—he was never outwardly dismissive or rude. But his silence spoke volumes. Every attempt to connect felt like it fell short. You’d find yourself lingering by his desk, hoping for a spark of warmth, but he remained like a stone statue, absorbed in his world of facts and logic, leaving no room for small talk, no room for you.

You knew it was because of what he’d been through—the years on the job, seeing the darkest corners of humanity, and the months he’d spent in prison for a crime he didn’t commit. You didn’t expect him to open up immediately, but you couldn’t help feeling like you were being shut out, as if you didn’t even exist in his world.

One afternoon, after another grueling case, Emily pulled Spencer aside. You watched from a distance as they spoke quietly in the hallway outside the bullpen. It wasn’t unusual for them to have private conversations, but this time, you could tell it was different. The tension in Emily’s posture spoke volumes, her usual calm demeanor strained as she spoke to him in a low, controlled voice.

"Spencer," Emily said, her tone gentle but firm. "Go easy on her. She’s still learning the ropes."

Spencer didn’t respond immediately, but you could see the furrow in his brow. He crossed his arms, a familiar sign of resistance. "I don’t know why she’s here in the first place," he muttered, his voice tight. "You brought her in like she’s going to replace me."

Emily sighed, her patience palpable. "Spencer, that’s not what’s happening. She’s here because she’s talented. She solved that case when none of us could get close. There’s something in her that we don’t have. This job has toughened us all, but she’s in tune with emotions in a way that lets her read people better. She thinks outside the box and picks up on things we miss. That’s a skill we need."

"She’s just a rookie," Spencer shot back, almost as if to dismiss her entirely.

"Rookies can make a difference," Emily replied, her voice softening. "You were a rookie once, give her a chance. She’s not here to replace you. No one ever could." She patted his shoulder before walking away, Spencer’s frown now morphing into a glare as he caught your eyes through the halfway open blinds.

—

The case was already making waves back at Quantico—a chilling pattern that left even the most seasoned agents unsettled. Young women, all in their early twenties, had been disappearing without a trace, only to be found days later in isolated, hauntingly serene locations. Each scene felt deliberate, almost ceremonial, with the victims bound and posed in ways that suggested some twisted form of reverence or ritual.

The killer’s signature was unmistakable: he wasn’t just abducting and murdering these women—he was creating a spectacle. At each scene, small tokens were left behind, items that seemed personal to the victims but whose significance the team had yet to decipher. There was no discernible link between the women—no shared acquaintances, no overlapping routines—but the precision and consistency of the unsub’s methods made it clear he was following a meticulously thought-out plan.

What pushed the case into even darker territory were the videos. Hours before each body was found, the unsub would send footage to the victim's family—a harrowing glimpse of their loved one in her final moments. The videos were devoid of color, the black and white feed only amplifying the horror. The unsub would taunt the families by delivering the footage in person, leaving USB drives on doorsteps or mailing them with cryptic, handwritten notes. It was a psychological attack as much as a physical one, designed to shatter the survivors and leave them with a burden of unanswered questions.

—

After the team wrapped up the debriefing on the jet, Emily turned to you and Spencer. “I want the two of you to work together on interviewing people associated with this case,” she said, her tone firm and leaving no room for argument.

Your eyes lit up with a flicker of hope. This was your first real assignment—no shadowing, no taking notes in the background—actual fieldwork where you’d be directly contributing to the case.

Spencer Reid—the prodigy, the one with a photographic memory and an endless well of knowledge—was someone you admired since before you joined the BAU. You smiled faintly, eager but trying to hide just how much this opportunity meant to you.

Spencer, however, didn’t share your enthusiasm. He glanced at Emily, then at you, and though he didn’t say anything, the faint tightening of his jaw and his unreadable gaze told you everything. He wasn’t thrilled about the pairing.

Still, you told yourself it didn’t matter. This was your chance—to learn from him, to prove to him and the rest of the team that you had what it took to contribute. Spencer’s reluctance might have stung, but you weren’t going to let it deter you.

—

The first stop was to interview the family of a missing woman, a college student who’d been found dead three days after her disappearance. The parents were devastated—shocked, grieving, and desperately trying to piece together anything that could help them understand who had taken their daughter. You listened intently, jotting down notes, but there was something off about one of the alibis given by a neighbor—the last person to see the girl alive. You couldn’t put your finger on it, but something felt wrong.

You brought it up to Spencer, speaking carefully but with conviction. “I don’t think he’s telling us the whole truth. Something about his story doesn’t add up.”

Spencer barely glanced at you, his tone sharp. “His alibi checks out. There’s no reason to think he’s lying.”

You shook your head, the feeling in your gut growing stronger. “But something is off, I can’t really explain it but I just feel it.”

Spencer’s eyes narrowed. “You feel it? We’re not here for feelings. This isn’t some sort of instinct game. You have to trust the evidence.”

“But something’s not adding up,” you pressed, feeling the frustration rise in your chest.

Spencer’s tone grew colder. “This isn’t a job where everything works out because you think you have some sort of spidey sense. You can’t go around guessing. You need to understand what it really takes to solve a case.”

You let the conversation drop, trying to focus on other details, but his dismissiveness was starting to sting. Spencer wasn’t just disagreeing with your instincts—he was questioning your competence, as though your opinion didn’t matter at all.

The day dragged on, with Spencer continuously shutting down your ideas. Every time you tried to offer a new perspective or suggest a potential lead, he dismissed you with a harsh, dismissive comment.

“This isn’t the job you think it is. It’s not about theories, it’s about hard work and experience,” he snapped at one point.

The more you tried, the more it felt like Spencer was deliberately undermining you. Every suggestion, no matter how thoughtful, was met with a cold refusal.

When you finally presented another lead from a witness, Spencer’s frustration exploded. “You’re inexperienced. Everyone here earned their place through hard work. You? You got in because you were in the right place at the right time. Nothing more. Maybe you wanted to experience the darkness, to see what it’s like, but you don’t really understand what it costs to live in it every day. One day, your luck is going to run out, and when it does, no instinct or gut feeling is going to save you. You don’t think like a profiler, you just react. You walk into things blind, hoping the answer will just come to you. But in the real world, there’s no safety net. No one’s going to follow some gut feeling into the dark and magically find their way out."

The words hit you like a slap to the face. You stood there, trying to hold yourself together, but his words tore into you. Spencer wasn’t just dismissing your ideas; he was attacking you personally, questioning your entire existence.

You kept your composure, nodding absently as though agreeing, though inside, you were cracking under the weight of his accusations.

—

When the day finally ended, you excused yourself, telling Spencer you needed to clear your head. As you stepped outside into the crisp evening air, the weight of the day pressed on your shoulders. You needed a moment to breathe, to process everything Spencer had said.

That’s when you saw him—the neighbor you’d interviewed earlier, the one you were convinced was lying. He was standing by his car, watching you. Something about his posture, the way he loomed in the shadows, sent a chill down your spine.

“Can I help you?” you asked, keeping your voice steady.

“I wanted to apologize,” he said, stepping closer. “I wasn’t completely honest earlier. Can we talk privately?”

Every instinct in your body screamed for you to leave. “Actually, I need to get back—”

Before you could finish, he lunged. You fought back, kicking and clawing, screaming as loudly as you could, but he was stronger. His hand clamped over your mouth, muffling your cries.

He wrestled you into a car, duct-taping your mouth and wrists as he muttered to himself. You could see the gleam of excitement in his eyes, the satisfaction he got from the struggle.

You forced yourself to breathe deeply, shutting out the pounding of your heart. Stay calm, you told yourself. Panic wasn’t an option. You had been trained for situations like this, and you knew fear was his weapon.

As the car sped away, you focused on observing everything around you. The unsub kept glancing at you in the rearview mirror, his lips twitching into a twisted grin. You realized then—Fear gave him power. That was his fuel. He didn’t just want to hurt his victims; he wanted to break them emotionally, to revel in their terror.

Don’t give him that power, you thought, straightening your posture and meeting his gaze with an icy calmness. His smirk faltered for a split second before returning, but you saw the flicker of frustration.

You started piecing together his personality. He wasn’t impulsive; this was calculated. He had planned every detail, which meant he was confident, methodical, and most likely familiar with his hunting ground. His muttering gave you a glimpse into his psyche—fragments of sentences about being “misunderstood” and “showing them” painted the picture of someone who felt wronged by the world and used his crimes as a way to reclaim control.

The car took a sharp left turn, and you counted silently. One left turn. You pressed your bound hands against the door for stability, straining to catch the noises outside. Gravel crunched under the tires as they left the pavement. Two right turns. The road sounds uneven now—it’s gravel, maybe leading to a more isolated area.

You kept your eyes sharp, scanning for anything that could give away your location. A small victory came when you caught a glimpse of a weathered sign as they passed under a flickering streetlight. The sign was faded, but you managed to make out “Thornhill Dr.”

Thornhill Dr, two right turns off the main street, and we’re heading north, you calculated.

The sound of an approaching train caught your attention, and you noted the rhythm of the horn. You mentally mapped where train tracks were in proximity to Thornhill Dr—another clue you could use later.

Your mind sharpened as adrenaline coursed through you, heightening every detail. A slight creak in the car’s suspension suggested the vehicle was older, poorly maintained. The air grew colder, hinting that you were moving into a less urban area, away from the warmth of the city’s dense buildings.

Every observation mattered. Every detail was a potential key to your survival. You couldn’t scream for help, but you could think, analyze, and stay one step ahead.

The unsub’s voice interrupted your thoughts. “You’re too calm. You think you’re brave, huh? Acting like you’re not scared.”

You met his eyes through the mirror again, your face expressionless. He leaned back in his seat slightly, as though unnerved by your lack of reaction.

The car began to slow, and you braced yourself. We’ve arrived, you thought. You made a mental note of the landmarks—a rusty mailbox near a dirt driveway, the faint outline of a barn in the distance. The weathered boards of the barn seemed to match the descriptions from the case files.

I know where I am, you realized, a small surge of hope igniting within you. Now I just have to stay alive long enough for them to find me.

Your heart pounded, but your mind stayed sharp. You had everything you needed to leave a trail for your team—now it was just a matter of time

You sat stoically bound to the chair, your eyes cold and unwavering as the unsub stood before you. His anticipation was palpable, as if he expected you to break, to cry, to beg. But you didn’t. You simply met his eyes with calm indifference.

“So your dad left and your mother doesn’t love you,” you said, your voice steady. “That doesn’t give you a right to do this.”

His grin faltered for a moment, the words hitting him harder than he anticipated. There was a brief flash of anger in his eyes, but you could see the confusion behind it. He wasn’t used to being challenged, especially not with the emotional weight of his own troubled past.

“Where’s your family?” he asked, his voice low and taunting. “Don’t you have anyone who cares about you? Anyone who’s going to watch this and cry for you?” You held his gaze, emotionless. There was a chill in the air, but it wasn’t fear—it was control. “I have no one,” you said quietly, your words landing with deliberate weight. “The only ones who would care about seeing this... are my team.”

He seemed to hesitate, his fingers hovering over the phone as if unsure how to respond to your calm. But soon, his frustration took over, and he hit the ‘record’ button, turning the camera on you. The feed blinked to life, broadcasting your image across the screens of the BAU.

—

Back at the base, chaos reigned. Penelope, usually confident in her skills, was visibly breaking down. Her fingers trembled as they flew over the keyboard, trying to track the signal. Her mind raced as the seconds dragged on, but the pressure was beginning to get to her. “He’s jumping between different servers. This isn’t random. It’s deliberate,” she muttered under her breath, her voice shaky. She wiped a tear away, fighting the panic that threatened to overwhelm her. The desperation was palpable in her voice as she typed furiously, willing herself to focus.

Emily, standing beside Penelope, shot her a supportive glance, though the worry in her eyes was unmistakable. She was all business, trying to calm the team down and make sense of the situation. “We’re going to find her,” she said, voice steady but tight with the weight of leadership. Her mind was already formulating the next steps, calculating the possibilities with quick efficiency.

JJ, still pacing back and forth, shot a glance at the screen. Her lips were pressed into a thin line, her gaze flicking from the monitor to the team. “We’re not losing her. We’re not,” she repeated, more to herself than to anyone else. The anxiety was evident, but so was her determination to stay focused.

Rossi stood nearby, scanning the screen. His brows furrowed as he muttered to himself, trying to make sense of the livestream. His calm, composed demeanor was cracking, and frustration bubbled to the surface.

Luke’s chest tightened as he watched the screen, unable to look away. The helplessness gnawed at him, his hands clenched into fists at his sides.

Matt grabbed at his hair, his thoughts racing. He couldn’t shake the fear that gripped him, the uncertainty of the situation weighing on him.

Spencer, who usually remained calm in the face of danger, was visibly shaken. His mind kept returning to his own experience, the terror he’d felt when Tobias Hankel had taken him. The helplessness, the fear—he remembered it all too vividly. Now, seeing you in the same position, his heart raced with a familiar dread.

But what gnawed at him even more was the guilt. The last conversation you had kept replaying in his mind. He had dismissed your concerns about the neighbor. If he had listened, if he had trusted your instincts like others had done for him when he first joined the BAU, you wouldn’t be in this position. The guilt ate at him. He silently begged for another chance, wishing he could take back his words and make things right.

—

As the live stream continued, the unsub’s taunting voice cut through the tension in the room. He kept his camera trained on you, trying to get a rise out of you, his twisted satisfaction evident in his every movement. But you didn’t break. You stayed calm, your mind working at full speed, calculating, analyzing. You had to focus, remain steady, and find a way to give the team the clues they needed—subtle enough for the unsub not to catch on.

“Do you think they’ll come for me?” you asked softly, eyes fixed on the camera, keeping your tone even. “Do you think they'll find me before the next train comes?”

The unsub scoffed, amused by your apparent defiance. “They won’t find you,” he spat, looking away, clearly oblivious to the significance of your words. But Spencer wasn’t. His eyes snapped to the screen, and his mind began to piece together the details. The mention of the train, the faint rhythm of the horn in the background. He knew exactly what you were doing. You were giving them a hint, telling them you were near the tracks.

The unsub didn’t respond, busy with his phone, and you knew he had his attention fully on the camera now. It was the perfect moment for you to speak in code—something only Spencer would understand.

You paused and added, almost casually, “The sky’s still gray, like it’s waiting to rain. Makes you want to drive a little farther into the hills, doesn’t it? Somewhere the roads are too narrow for anyone to follow.”

Then, as if you couldn’t keep it inside any longer, you looked straight into the camera and addressed Spencer directly. “Spencer, I don’t know why you’re so mean to me sometimes. You told me my luck was going to run out. That I walk into things blind, hoping the answer will just come to me. But you need to start trusting me, I promise I won’t lead you astray. I may be a thorn in your side, but thorns are there for a reason."

The moment you spoke those words, Spencer’s eyes widened at the base. He had caught it—the final clue. Thorn. It wasn’t just the pain of those words—it was the road. Thorn Hill Drive. It all clicked for him.

Without hesitation, he turned to Penelope. “Thorn Hill Drive. Check the train routes, the roads, everything. We need to know exactly where she is.”

Penelope worked furiously at her computer, cross-referencing the details Spencer had given her. Within moments, she found the location.

—

The team rushed into action, each agent moving with the precision of a well-oiled machine. Emily was the first to stand, her voice clear and commanding. “Penelope, pull up the map of Thorn Hill Drive. Luke, Matt, Reid you’re on the ground—get ready to go. Rossi, JJ, stay here to monitor the live stream. We need to move fast, people.”

Luke and Matt didn’t hesitate. They grabbed their gear, ready to head out the door, their determination etched across their faces. The urgency in Emily’s tone pushed them forward with a sense of purpose that only years of experience could cultivate.

As the team dispersed into their assigned tasks, Penelope’s fingers flew across her keyboard. “I’ve got it! Thorn Hill Drive is in the outskirts of the city, about twenty miles north. There’s a set of train tracks that run parallel to the road.”

Spencer’s mind raced as he watched the details unfold on the screen. He was no stranger to the chaos that followed a kidnapping, but this time, it felt personal. He couldn’t shake the guilt gnawing at him. He should’ve listened to you. Your instincts had been right, and now you were paying the price.

“She’ll be okay, Reid,” Emily’s voice broke through his thoughts. “We’re going to bring her home.”

He snapped his attention back to the task at hand, shaking off the guilt and focusing on the case. “I know, the unsub underestimated her. I underestimated her.”

Penelope’s voice was strained but full of determination. “I’ve got eyes on the location. There’s a barn near a dirt road—looks like the area she described. There’s only one way in and out.

“Perfect,” Emily said, her voice all business. “Everyone, gear up. Luke, Matt—take the lead. The rest of us will follow. Let’s move.”

The team was in motion within seconds. They moved with urgency, knowing that every second counted. Spencer was out the door before anyone else, his legs pushing him faster than he thought possible, the guilt and fear weighing heavily on his chest. He couldn’t bear the thought of you being out there, alone, in the hands of a killer who was savoring your terror.

—

You had been tied to a chair for what felt like hours, though time seemed to stretch and warp in the silence. The unsub had retreated into the shadows, likely hoping you’d break under the pressure, but you refused to give him the satisfaction. Your mind kept racing, cataloging every detail you could—every sound, every movement. You weren’t about to give up. Not when you were so close.

The sound of a car engine revving in the distance made you stiffen, but you forced yourself to remain calm. It could be him preparing to leave, or it could be the team. You’d left them all the clues you could; now, you had to trust that they were on their way.

The unsub returned, his eyes gleaming with excitement as he approached. “You think they’re coming for you?” His voice was dark, twisted with amusement. “I’m not stupid. I know they’re out there looking for you. But you know what? They’ll be too late. They always are.”

You didn’t respond, keeping your face expressionless, focusing on your breathing.

He seemed to enjoy your silence more than anything, pacing around you. “Do you want to know why I picked you?” he asked suddenly, as if the thought had just occurred to him. “Because you’re just like me. Alone. Abandoned.”

You blinked, your pulse quickening. “You’re not alone,” you said softly, meeting his gaze. “You have your family. You have your victims.”

His eyes flashed with anger at your words. “No,” he snapped. “I don’t have anyone. Not anymore. I’m the one who’s been forgotten. I’m the one who’s been ignored. But this? This is my revenge. I’ll make them remember me. I’ll make them know what it’s like to feel powerless.”

You inhaled sharply, feeling the tension between you grow. But something in his words clicked in your mind—a piece of the puzzle fitting into place. His desperation, his need to show the world his pain—it wasn’t just about power. It was about feeling seen. He wasn’t just hunting women. He was hunting validation.

As if reading your thoughts, the unsub smirked. “You’ll be the one to show them. You’ll be the one to remind them that they can’t forget.”

You didn’t have time to entertain his twisted philosophy. You needed to focus on the one thing that mattered—surviving.

The car engine noise grew louder, a flicker of hope rising in your chest. You were running out of time. You needed to find a way to break free, to survive.

Matt and Luke leapt out of the vehicle, their weapons drawn, ready for action. “We’ve got to move fast,” Luke said, his voice low and urgent. “He’ll be expecting us. Let’s breach the barn from both sides.”

They flanked the barn, eyes scanning every inch for movement.

Spencer’s heart was pounding in his chest as he finally caught up with the others. Emily’s words replayed in his mind: “You were a rookie once, give her a chance.”

The team moved with precision, no longer just a group of agents but a family, united by the mission to save you. Spencer’s chest tightened, a storm of emotions warring within him. He had to make things right. He had to.

Inside the barn, you could hear the footsteps approaching. Your heartbeat quickened.

This was it. The moment you’d been waiting for.

You closed your eyes and whispered, “Spencer.”

And then everything went black.

—

the first thing you noticed was the sterile scent of the hospital room and the steady, rhythmic beeping of a heart monitor beside you. Your body felt heavy, every inch of you sore, but there was a deeper ache—a lingering exhaustion that settled in your bones. You groaned, and it was the sound of discomfort that made Spencer stir beside you.

His head jerked up from the uncomfortable chair he was slouched in, eyes wide and clouded with sleep. The exhaustion on his face hit you all at once. He'd been there for a while. His hair was tousled, his clothes wrinkled, and his posture was stiff, as if he hadn’t moved in hours.

“Hey,” you croaked, your voice raw.

Spencer blinked at you, clearly startled by your groaning. His gaze softened as he pushed himself up from the chair, stretching his stiff neck. “You’re awake,” he said, his voice hoarse, his eyes scanning you for any signs of distress.

You nodded slowly, trying to push yourself up in bed but wincing at the ache in your muscles. Spencer immediately moved to help you, his hand gently pressing against your shoulder to keep you steady.

“Don’t try to move too fast,” he warned softly. “You’ve been through a lot.”

You sank back into the pillows, feeling the weight of everything that had happened crashing down on you. “How long…?”

He didn’t answer immediately, instead running a hand through his hair and exhaling sharply. “A while,” he said quietly. “I’ve been here all night. I didn’t want to leave.”

You looked at him, really looked at him, and saw the exhaustion and worry etched deep into his features. It was clear he hadn't left for hours—maybe longer. You felt a pang of guilt but pushed it away.

“Spencer,” you whispered, your throat tight. “You didn’t have to stay here.”

“I wanted to,” he said firmly, his gaze intense. He took a breath, eyes flickering with hesitation. “You did good back there. How did you stay so calm? The whole time… with everything he was doing, the livestream, the situation… you never cracked.”

You hesitated for a moment, the question hitting too close to home, but you knew it was time to be honest.

“It’s not about being calm, Spencer,” you said quietly, voice trembling. “It’s about survival.”

Spencer’s brow furrowed, and he leaned in a bit closer. “What do you mean?”

You inhaled shakily, struggling to find the right words. “The reason the unsub livestreamed my abduction… the reason he didn’t send the footage to my family... it’s because I don’t have anyone, Spencer. Not really.”

His eyes widened, and he opened his mouth to say something, but you held up your hand to stop him.

“I know it sounds crazy,” you continued, voice trembling, “but he knew. He knew there was no one waiting for me, no one to watch the screen and beg for my return.” You looked down at your hands, unable to meet his gaze. “My parents were negligent. They were never there. My whole life… it was like I didn’t exist to them. And when they did pay attention, it wasn’t in the way a parent should. I wasn’t loved, Spencer. I wasn’t protected.”

The words felt heavy, a weight that had been buried deep inside you for so long. Spencer was silent, his expression unreadable as he watched you.

“And that’s why I’m good at this,” you said, the words coming out almost automatically. “Why I’m so focused, so good at picking up on things that others miss.” You swallowed, struggling against the lump in your throat. “I had to survive. I had to learn how to read people, to hone my instincts. It was the only way to stay safe in my own home. I lived like that for so long, always waiting for something to happen. Always trying to figure out the next move before it happened.”

Spencer’s face softened as he listened to you, his eyes filled with empathy and a sorrow that you hadn’t expected. “I’m so sorry,” he said, his voice breaking slightly. “You didn’t deserve any of that.”

You took a shaky breath, trying to hold back the tears that threatened to spill. “It’s not about deserving it, Spencer. It’s just what happened. And I had to learn to live with it. But that’s why… that’s why I reacted the way I did. I couldn’t just let him control me. Not like that. I had to stay calm. I had to keep fighting.”

Spencer reached out, his hand gently brushing yours, a gesture of reassurance. “You’re strong,” he whispered. You’ve earned my respect.”

You looked at him, not sure how to respond at first. You were still feeling the sting of his earlier words, the harshness that he’d used to shut you down. “I don’t need your respect, Spencer,” you said quietly, your voice tinged with frustration. “But I do need you to stop taking advantage of my kindness. You’ve been so cold, so dismissive. And all I’ve tried to do is help—especially with this case. Every time I tried to contribute, you brushed me off. It’s like you think I don’t belong here.”

Spencer’s eyes widened, the guilt flooding back. He opened his mouth to say something, but you raised your hand to stop him.

“You can’t keep doing that,” you continued, your voice steadier now, though the anger still burned in your chest. “You can’t keep treating me like I’m just the ‘rookie.’ You’re better than that.”

Spencer nodded slowly, his throat tight. “You’re right. I’m sorry. I’ve been an ass. I… I don’t know why I’ve been so hard on you. Maybe it’s because I’ve been shutting everyone out, and it felt easier to push you away too. But that’s not your fault, and you don’t deserve it. I’m sorry for not listening to you when I should’ve.”

You stared at him for a long moment, considering his words. The apology didn’t undo the hurt, but you saw the sincerity in his eyes.

“Just… try to trust me next time,” you said quietly, your voice softening. “I know I’m new, but I’m not stupid. I’m not here by accident, Spencer. I’ve earned my place just like everyone else.”

He nodded slowly, his gaze steady but still guarded. “I’ll try to do better,” he said, his voice quieter this time, less defensive. “I’ll listen more, take you seriously. I won’t shut you out like I did before.”

There was a pause, and you could sense the effort it took for him to even say that much. It wasn’t a perfect apology, but it was a start—one that made you wonder if there could be more to this than just the professional walls he’d built around himself.

The silence lingered, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. You both seemed to understand, without saying it, that this wasn’t the end of the conversation. It was only the beginning. And though Spencer’s walls were still up, there was something different in the air—a shift, a subtle change in how he was letting you in, even if just a little. Maybe, just maybe, you were both ready for whatever came next.

For now, though, you let the quiet settle between you. The weight of the case, the uncertainty of the future—it all still hung in the air. But somehow, you felt like you weren’t carrying it alone anymore. And that was enough—for now.

114 notes · View notes

cheriladycl01 · 2 days ago

Text

Better than me - Charles Leclerc x Reader P11

Plot: You are a rookie in your first f1 season, adding to the ever-growing amount of Brits performing in the grid

A/N: I feel like i haven't posted in so long because ive been stuck on this one chapter, and where the season isn't on right now i've distanced myself from F1 a little. I know this chapter is short but i fear its what i needed to get myself writing for F1 again.

You sat politely in the media pen, with a bottle of water before being directed next to Lando for a seat.

All of the media came in ready to start asking questions and interviewing you guys for the media panel.

It was the first race back for you where you’d actively talked to the media so it was a little nerve wracking knowing that you’d be asked if you were truly ready to come back or if it would be more beneficial for you to take some more time off and wait.

Having people like Lando was helpful as he was one of the people who checked up on you while you were out of races, he’d never spent prolonged periods of times away from the races when everyone else was racing so he didn’t actually know what it felt like.

But he of course wasn't Charles.

After your last conversation with the Ferrari driver he had become someone you thought about far too often for your own liking. He was constantly in the back of your mind and it was becoming very annoying.

And now that you were here, at a race and going to be back in the first time since your crash you saw him everywhere. And not just as a physical person, he was on the merch in the fan zone, and his face was plastered all over banners and every Ferrari you saw drive through the streets had you holding your breath wondering whether it could be him.

It never was, strangely since arriving on the Tuesday you never saw him. You couldnt really tell what would be better though. A large part of you wanted to see him, yell at him, hug him and be comforted by him. Another part of you just really wanted to ignore him and forget he even existed.

But at the end of the day, yours and Charles relationship in the short time you knew one another had been chaotic to say the least with everything that had gone on in your first season in F1.

Drive to survive could most likely do a whole series just on you this one season and all the scandals that had arose.

"Y/N? It's great to see you here" the interviewer smiles kindly at you, you give a polite nod back raising the mic up to your face.

"And it feels great to finally be back after all this time" you grin, putting on the face people wanted to see.

"Yeah? Do you feel like you've given yourself enough time away to heal. Do you feel confident getting back in the car?" he asks and you nod, head tilted to the side in a thoughtful way.

"I do. I think all drivers will agree that when something sets you back you pretty much everything to get back to where you were at. A lot set me back this year and i feel better than ever and get back to what I know which is the racing" you answer with a small smile.

"It's crazy how quickly the body can recover and mentally how you can come back from something like that" he praises and you nod, not sure if it was a question or not.

"It's obviously different because the stakes are higher, but if you had an accident in your workplace im sure once you've healed you'd go right back to the job in a muscle memory way with a little more caution at the back of your mind" you explain.

He moves on asking questions to the other drivers meaning you were free to zone out and look around calming your mind for the weekend ahead.

After what felt like hours too you, the panel ended and you were dismissed back to the garage. You had a snack before wondering around looking at the car and getting a feel for it. Every weekend you had been here and not driving, just looking at the data had you itching to get back in the car.

Now that you were here you wanted to sit back in the car. You hopped in to the cockpit your hand running round the halo as you slip your feet down. It felt weird being sat in the car in your team gear and not in the racesuit, but just holding the wheel and checking all the buttons were still in the same place as when you'd left, which looking back on after you'd checked you felt silly.

"Feeling ready for the actual test tomorrow?" Alex asks coming over from his side of the garage, having been watching you for the last 5 minutes wondering if too bother you or not.

"Mmmm? Oh yeah i think so, just a lot on my mind" you say looking up at the boy who'd become like an older brother too you.

"You're gonna be just fine. You'll prove them all wrong" Alex grins and you cock your head to the side in confusion.

"I don't even know who i have to prove myself too anymore. I- just wanna drive with no expectation but i cant really do that here can i" you laugh a little bit.

"I mean, you could. Not sure how long you'd have this job for though" he jokes and you nod.

"Mmmm yeah i guess i should try. Maybe we can even gets some points tomorrow. I do feel like i've let you all down"

"You haven't, you've been healing and having a difficult time from ... what Lily's told me" he admits slowly your head shooting out to look at him.

"Sh-she told you?" You ask.

"Yeah, I know that you didn't want her to, don't take this oiut on her but she was worried about you going into this weekend and seeing him after what happened and i just wanted to let you know i am here for you and always will be. Whatever you need, an escape, a hug, a tow. I am more than just your teammate okay?" he explains rubbing your shoulder, tears filling up your waterline as you look up at him, before you head flops againt his arm.

"Thank you Alex" you sniff.

Taglist:

@littlebitchsposts @hockey-racing-fubol @laura-naruto-fan1998 @22yuki @simxican @sinofwriting @lewisroscoelove @cmleitora @daemyratwst @lauralarsen @the-untamed-soul @thewulf @itsjustkhaos @purplephantomwolf @chasing-liberosis @summissss @gulphulp @starfusionsworld @jspitwall @sierruhhhh @georgeparisole @youcannotcancelquidditch @tallbrownhairsarcastic @ourteenagetragedy @peachiicherries @formulas-bitch @cherry-piee @spilled-coffee-cup @mehrmonga @curseofhecate @alliwantisadonut @dark-night-sky-99 @i-wish-this-was-me @tallrock35 @butterfly-lover @barnestatic @landossainz @darleneslane @barcelonaloverf1life @r0nnsblog @ilove-tswizzle @laneyspaulding19 @malynn @landosgirlxoxo @marie0v @yourbane @teamnovalak @nikfigueiredo @fionaschicken @0picels0 @tinydeskwriter @ironmaiden1313 @splaterparty0-0 @formula1mount

77 notes · View notes